


Good Intentions (that backfire horribly in one way or another)

by ForensicSpider98



Series: Love After the Fact [20]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Cultural Differences, All this stress is bad for the baby, Altean Adam (Voltron), Altean Prince Lance (Voltron), Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Aromantic Asexual Pidge | Katie Holt, Balmeran Hunk (Voltron), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Galra Shiro (Voltron), Galran Prince Keith (Voltron), Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Moral Dilemmas, Multi, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Olkari Pidge | Katie Holt, Post-War, it's keith. keith is the baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:20:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23288428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForensicSpider98/pseuds/ForensicSpider98
Summary: TFW you say something horribly rude and almost immediately feel bad about it but you're also absolutely right and feel like being petty so you're still a little bit of an asshole about it and basically you're sorry but you're not SORRY, y'know what I'm saying?Also, 'fuck' is a Galra swear word because I can do what I want
Relationships: Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Alfor/Coran (Voltron), Allura/Lotor/Romelle (Voltron), Haggar/Zarkon (Voltron), Hunk & Pidge | Katie Holt, Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: Love After the Fact [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1635043
Comments: 21
Kudos: 213





	Good Intentions (that backfire horribly in one way or another)

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING(S):  
> -Use of the word 'rape'  
> -Implications of hypothetical physical violence
> 
> Nothing graphic, only brief mentions, but read with care my loves <3<3<3

As they approach the castle, Adam is waiting for them, tablet in hand and looking quite stressed. “Prince Yorak, where have you been?”

“Out.” He doesn’t feel like talking. He's tired after the long day.

“Prince Yorak, King Alfor has been anxiously awaiting your return. He wishes to speak with you. Come quickly.”

“Actually,” Keith says, vaulting from the shreika. Lance takes its reins without a second’s hesitation, back unusually stiff, fluid grace abandoned. “I don’t think I’ll be doing that. Please excuse me.”

Keith walks off in the direction of the hole in the wall, suddenly unwilling to return to his prison just yet. Perhaps he only just remembered it was a prison.

“And what do you expect me to tell him, your Majesty?!” Adam calls, voice pitched higher with stress. Keith finds he barely cares. “I’m not a magic spell!”

“Tell him whatever you like! I’m sure you can come up with something sufficiently endearing, shy, and benign!”

"You forgot demure! Could you at least _try_ to take this seriously?!" Adam howls as Keith slips away into the dark.

Keith knows that this won’t be the end of it, but he’s not sure what else to do. He’s in no mood to speak to Alfor after hearing what he’s been doing to Lance. And what might Lance do, given enough time, enough pressure? The prince has little control, but he's a powerful alchemist. With enough focus, Lance probably could do whatever he wanted to Keith. Keith could put up a fight, but then he’d end up executed for treason or some other such nonsense. 

No, Lance would never do that. Keith trusts Lance.

All the same, he’s trapped. He’s also not behaving as an adult but that’s just the problem: he’s not an adult. But the royals wouldn’t wait a damn decaphoeb or find somebody else and now here he is trapped in a marriage among a species that only cares about how quickly they can continue the line of succession.

What an utter mess. But he’s not sure what to do, so he slips through the gap in the wall and sits beside a stream he found only yesterday. He sighs, pulling on the end of his braid as he contemplates having never felt safe in his life. When he was little, his father had promised that one day, they'd take Krolia and wander the stars, discover new worlds. Akira had wanted to take him to a place called Earth, to meet the people who gave him his name. The knowledge of how to find this 'Earth' -the planet with the least-inspired name ever- had died with his father. He couldn't go if he'd wanted to.

He'll likely be on Altea for the rest of his life. What a depressing thought.

“Thought I might find you out here.” Keith leaps to his feet, expecting to see Lance, but finding Alfor instead. "I heard you found a way to sneak out. The wall exit is the easiest to find."

Keith hisses, ears pinned back against his head. He reaches for his blade as the king merely raises an eyebrow. Alfor raises his hands, doesn’t move from his spot by the stream. “You can relax, Keith. It’s Keith, isn’t it? My son has mentioned that’s what you like to be called.”

Keith relaxes, but only slightly. King Alfor is exactly who he doesn’t want to see. “What do you want?”

The king regards him, eyes strikingly tired. “Walk with me.”

Keith follows Alfor, rolling his eyes once the king’s back is turned. “What do you want?”

“What do you think of me?” Keith snorts, keeps his mouth shut. “No really, I want to know.”

“Not, you don’t. You want me to kiss your ass.”

“I have my ass kissed every day, Keith. If I wanted more of that I'd join you and Lance in court. Go ahead. I can take it.”

“Fine. You’re an arrogant bastard, a shitty father, and fucking awful person.”

“What is ‘fucking’? It sounds delightfully vulgar.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, my apologies. I didn't mean to interrupt.”

Keith narrows his eyes, takes a deep breath. It's too tempting. This man has tried to use and abuse and manipulate him since he got here and now, being invited to speak his mind for the first time since he was appointed a lord on Daibazaal, he can't resist.

 _“Gladly._ You presume to know the wants and needs of your people while you play warrior king in your study. You look down on your son with disdain and do little to encourage or speed his progress. You seem largely indifferent when it comes to his life, interests, happiness, and general well-being, and worst of all, you’ve been harassing him this entire time trying to convince him to _rape_ me!” Keith pauses, waits to see if he’s committed enough treason yet.

“Continue.” Well, he must do as his liege commands. Besides, it feels _amazing_.

“You’re disgusting! I am a _kit!_ Your son holds onto his morals while you tell him to abandon his basic principles, pin me down, and fuck me while every instinct in my body screams at me to fight him until my last breath! If my people knew, they’d go to war over me! If your people knew, you’d be overthrown in a day! Rumors run rampant in your court and spread anxiety among the people; your method of rule is archaic; your laws are outdated, convoluted, and contradictory; your infrastructure is weak and crumbling while Lance attempts to hold it together with glue, a wish, and a prayer to your ancestors!"

Keith's voice gets higher and higher, louder and louder as four phoeb's worth of frustration makes its presence known. Granted he's not speaking about Daibazaal's state, but he'll scream about that next time he sees Zarkon. “This entire place is pathetic and you clearly know far more of centuries of slaughter and promoting sexual assault than you do of actually running a kingdom!" Keith glares. "Coran seems pretty okay, though.”

“Yes, Coran is quite wonderful, isn’t he?” 

Keith snarls, claws digging into his fists. “That’s all you have to say?”

“All of what you said is true.”

“I agree- Wait. What?”

“I am an alchemist and a soldier, not a leader.” Alfor sighs. “You’re a kit and clearly you’re more capable than I am.”

“I still hate you… Why the fuck are you a king?”

“I married a princess, as was prearranged from the moment of my birth.”

“Try and put my kits into an arranged marriage. I dare you,” Keith hisses, choosing to make this clear now as opposed to later. “I fucking dare you! You do this to them and I will fuck you up!”

“The kits you’re currently incapable of bearing?” Keith’s ears stiffen. He keeps his teeth bared, the ruff along his back tingling as the fur rises. “I’ll commit that to memory.”

“You do that! And I’m _so_ sorry my _being a kit_ is an inconvenience to you.”

Alfor sighs, stops. “No, my people’s culture is a danger to us all. An Altean marriage is not considered official until consummated. Technically speaking, you and Lance are not married, which makes this entire alliance extremely delicate.”

“Perhaps you should have found a way to sort your shit out without trading your children like fucking livestock,” Keith hisses.

“Perhaps. Perhaps I should have done a lot of things. Like appointed a regent, or spent more time with my son.”

“For a start. I’m not backing down on the arranged marriage thing, just so we're clear. Why be a king if you’re not at all competent?”

“My children. When Melinor died, we were still at war. There had already been an attempt on Melinor’s life while she was with child, which ultimately succeeded. We managed to prolong her life until Lancel could survive outside the womb. Then Coran, with the help of our surgeon, removed my premature infant from his mother before he could die with her. I feared that the moment I abdicated, my children and my lover would be slaughtered. Only the royal family and staff are permitted to live inside the castle walls. Once we left, it would only have been a matter of time. I’ve since done the best I can for my people, but like I said…”

Keith took a deep breath, swallowed. This had taken an unnecessarily dark turn. He felt a little bad. But only a little. “Alchemist and soldier. A scholar with a sword. Also, selfish.”

Lance would have done better, made a stronger decision, one that kept both the kingdom and his family alive.

“It is a pretty cool sword though. And so is this.” Alfor steps aside, revealing a crack in a rock face.

Stepping through the crack in the rocks, the only thing Keith can think is that he’s likely to be murdered here. A single chirp echoes through the dark. Keith clamps his jaw shut, reaches for his blade just in case. It’s a grotto, water bubbling up, pooling from beneath the ground, flowing from the walls. Vegetation clings to the walls with roots like spindly fingers. The air is cool and moist, but not overly so.

Alfor sighs, sits on the ground, legs straight out in front of him. “This is one of only three above-ground water sources on Altea, and the largest. There are organisms in this grotto that are found nowhere else in the universe. It is also where I taught both my children to swim.”

“You brought small children to a tiny, isolated ecosystem to teach them to swim.” It must be nice, abusing power. Though Alfor was likely just peering into a microscope, periodically glancing up to make sure his children hadn't drowned.

“Yes. It’s one of the few solid memories I have of myself with my children.”

Keith steps forward, cautious, takes a seat on the ground cover vegetation a few dashes from the Altean. He lays his blade in his lap.

“I did everything I could. I dreamed of learning, excelling, leading my people to some golden future, the king that never should have been, but was. Sometimes, that’s simply not how it happens. And it became clear that while I am a soldier, I cannot lead my people to victory against the Galra. So I sought out other solutions.

“Look at this grotto. Even on a planet without rain, there is still water, still life. In here, there are lives so unique they cannot exist anywhere else. The organisms in this pool will die if I bring them even a spot beyond that little crack in the rocks. When I wed my daughter to Prince Lotor, when she walked hand-in-hand with him, hand-in-hand with Romelle onto that imperial ship, I thought she too might cease to thrive. Imagine my selfish bitterness when I find that she has _blossomed_ into something even more beautiful, that she, her husband, and her lover are growing closer and that perhaps I, in my desire to keep my children as safe as possible, have smothered them.

“In trying to protect them, I have constrained them. I have made them restless, frustrated, and useless. Now, my daughter concerns herself with bringing constructive leisure to your people with the benefit of lowering minor crime and I’m fairly certain my son is steadily worming his way into every nook and cranny of the entire planet and gradually tweaking laws while hoping, for some obscure reason that I _won’t_ notice that he’s finally given up the pretense of not giving a quiznak.”

“You know it’s a pretense?” Keith asks, reluctantly curious.

“Of course I know it’s a pretense. People don’t just suddenly, magically care. When I made a tiny comment that perhaps implied I would perhaps like more support in my research of interstellar tardigrades and Coran showed up the next day with a comprehensive tablet of everything my people know about the little delights, do you think it is because he suddenly became deeply invested in what technologies might be inspired from pseudo-extremophiles? Of course not. Which is why he did not assist me in my research.”

“I… don’t follow,” Keith mumbles.

“He made a one-time effort to prove that he cares, not about tardigrades, but about me. I have not heard a word from him since aside from asking how my research is going when I seem particularly happy or particularly tired. Lance, however, has gotten married and now mysteriously shows up to hold court on the regular, sober and accompanied occasionally by you instead of a different prostitute each movement. I’ve even heard a rumor he’s even _finally_ bothered to learn what taxes are.”

Alfor chuckles, and all Keith can think of is how unbelievably sad that laugh sounds. “I’ve no idea what he’s up to, but my son is far, far smarter than I ever gave him credit for.”

It’s Keith’s turn to laugh, quietly because he hasn’t laughed out loud since he was very small, but it’s a genuine laugh all the same. “You really want to know what he's up to?”

“Yes, I really want to know.”

“He wants…” Keith sighs, smiles. “...to be a hero. Loved and admired and adored as the beautiful, young king who guided his people into that golden era.”

“So you think my son is beautiful?”

“What?! No, that’s not what I-”

“That’s what I heard.”

Keith can hear the taunts in the king’s voice. “Well I don’t know what _you_ heard but-”

“That’s fine. _I_ know what I heard.”

“Did you miss the part where I can’t currently be attracted to anyone including your son?”

“No, no. I got that. But I still think you like him and I still think you find him pretty. Everyone does. Unless of course you wish to tell me that you don’t find my son pretty, in which case you have found the line. Insulting my entire person is fine, but telling me you don’t find my son beautiful? Unacceptable.” Alfor wags a finger at him, grinning.

Keith rolls his eyes. “Fine. I like him. He's a likeable person. Don't expect anything more than that.”

“That’s fine. I’d just like for the two of you to be friends.”

“I’ve… never had a friend before,” Keith whispers, tail thumping on the ground. “Maybe Shiro, my adoptive brother, but that’s it. I like being Lance’s friend. He's... good. I feel like with people in this circle that's not as common as it should be. It makes life harder.”

Keith says nothing about the rumors Lord Lanval spoke of. He’s Lance’s spouse.

“Lance is… He’s a good kid, I think. At least, he wants to be good. I can see that now. I see this burning desire to prove himself and make a difference. I admire his idealism, even if it’s unrealistic.”

“He _is_ making a difference. It’s already started. The alchemy will take more time, since his heart is so distracted, but I can teach him how to use a sword, help him fulfill that silly dream or at least feel like he is. You’ve got your men fighting robots-”

“Fewer injuries. Theoretically.”

“It’s close, but not as good. You’d do better employing imitation weapons. All people think differently, at different speeds, and have different styles of fighting. Fighting a robot doesn’t tell you that your opponent broke their leg as a child and never had it set properly. It limits learning. I can help.”

“Anything else?”

“For tonight?” Keith squeezes the handle of his blade, watches it extend into a sword, inspects himself in it. He looks different, now. Not just healthy, but pampered and soft. Like the overbred little whore his mother told him about. He pushes a lock of hair out of his face. “Your gate should make a noise when it opens. For security. A silent gate means all someone has to do is take out your guards and they just just walk right in without alerting the castle.”

“You say that like taking out guards is easy.”

“It is. Silently and one at a time.”

“Understood. I’ll get it fixed. Now, we should get back, before Lance decides to tear the castle apart looking for us. But one more thing.” Keith looks up at the Altean. "I understand that you despise me, but do try not to ruin what little relationship I have left with my son."

"I won't," Keith whispers. He hates this man and finds him grossly incompetent, but has a begrudging respect for his efforts and devotion to his family. If, gods forbid, it ever came down to the lives of his own children and Lance were gone, he'd likely do the exact same thing. No. He wouldn't have to. He'd call Shiro. “Does he know? How his mother died, I mean.”

“No. We told him she died when he was three. He’s formed memories, based around images of her. He _swears_ they once played in the valley while the juniberries were in bloom… He doesn’t need to know. Melinor chose between herself and him, and he doesn't need to know that.”

Keith says nothing. Lance seems very much _unlike_ the person to manufacture memories of a deceased mother when he has two fathers, but what would he know? It’s not like said fathers have been particularly active in his life. Who knows? Maybe Keith has false memories of his own parents.

His thoughts come grinding to halt as a burning rock falls to his feet in front of him. “Uh… Alfor?”

**Author's Note:**

> Next time on Love After the Fact:  
> Adam is evil and everybody has a crisis


End file.
